Chapter Forty
Charlotte felt herself to be on pins and needles the next two weeks, barely able to attend her thoughts to anything but Mr. Morton’s return.
She had written to Dorothea, telling her of a nasty summer cold she had contracted and therefore declaring it would be “unwise of her to travel to Haverstone at this time.” Charlotte felt slightly guilty, lying to her dear sister, but she was determined to remain at Clayton House until Mr. Morton returned.
Dorothea had replied at once, agreeing to the delay and pronouncing an expectation to see her by the end of August. She also wrote that she would let Mr. Shelby and Mr. Cartwright know of the change in plans, adding: They appear as eager as ever to renew their addresses to you upon your return.
To calm her nerves as she waited, Charlotte sketched, took many long walks, practiced the pianoforte, and helped Lavinia plan menus and prepare the kitchen for canning stone fruits from Clayton House’s orchards.
Whereas before she had done her best to avoid being around Lavinia, she now felt closer to her brother’s wife than she ever had and was grateful to her for insisting she remain at home until she could learn if Mr. Morton’s apparent affections were sincere.
Could he truly love her? A small doubt still niggled at her, but Charlotte did her best to keep her confidence that it was, in fact, as Lavinia insisted.
*
On the thirteenth day after Mr. Morton left Clayton House, Lavinia sought out Charlotte. Finding her in an upstairs sitting room, she shut the door for privacy, hurried over, and took both her sister’s hands in her own.
“He is back, my dear, he is back,” she whispered fiercely.
“Mrs. Wilson just told me she saw Mr. Morton arrive at the parsonage. I have instructed her to take fresh bread, fruits, meats, cream, and such to him for his supper. And with it, I am sending an invitation for him to join us this afternoon at four o’clock for tea.
” She stepped back and gave her sister a critical look.
“I should change your dress if I were you. Put on the dark-peach one—it is so flattering to your complexion.”
“But, should we not wait and invite him to dinner, instead? Both Father and Miles are out on the estate and will not be back in time to see him.”
“You ninny. That is precisely why I am asking him here at that time. How can you have a private conversation with him with all four of us in attendance? No, you and I shall host him and then, after a time, I shall excuse myself to check on something—I do not know what yet, I shall figure that out in due time. Once alone together, you will thank him for the portrait and let nature take its expected course.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Do you expect it? Do you really believe he will make me an offer, Lavinia? I should hate to get my hopes up, just to learn he does not care enough for me.”
Lavinia rolled her eyes. “Should I be the sort of person who would make a wager on him making you an offer, I am confident I could do so with no fear of losing my money. Now, let us get you prepared to meet your future husband.”
*
After sending word back to accept their invitation, Mr. Morton arrived precisely on time, dressed in his finest. When Mrs. Wilson showed him into the drawing room, he bowed to both ladies, but Charlotte noted his eyes were solely trained on her.
Did it signify anything or was it just her hopes leading her on?
She was so afraid to believe he really loved her.
After all, she had thought herself in love with Robert, only to be rejected in the cruelest way possible.
Charlotte forced herself to smile at Mr. Morton and make eye contact.
She found she had to nearly remind herself to breathe.
Lavinia asked Mrs. Wilson to bring in tea, gestured Mr. Morton to a chair next to the settee where she and Charlotte sat, and inquired as to his return journey. She and Charlotte had agreed not to bring up the gift of the portrait until after she excused herself from the room.
“My journey back to Doddington was very pleasant, thank you, Mrs. Kendall,” Frederick replied. “Made more so by my eagerness to return to Clayton House and the society of the Kendall family.”
“I am certain you are filled with anticipation for beginning work at your new parish,” Charlotte said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I confess, we are no less eager to hear your first sermon.”
“Indeed, Charlotte has told me so much of your oratory skill, Mr. Morton,” Lavinia added.
“I understand that you are fond of writing your own texts rather than relying on the book of common sermons used by rectors at most parishes. How very novel of you. I am certain it will be most fascinating to the congregation.”
Mrs. Wilson and a maid entered, bearing trays upon which sat the teapot, cups and saucers, and plates of baked goods. Lavinia directed them to set it all down and after they left, filled a plate and tea cup.
“Yes, I do enjoy writing,” Frederick replied, thanking her as she handed him a cup and plate. “I hope your sister has not exaggerated my skill—I should hate to excite your anticipation for my first sermon and then have you be disappointed.”
Lavinia laughed. “I hardly think it possible.” She passed a cup to Charlotte. “What do you say, Sister—have you excessively praised our new rector’s abilities?”
“Not at all, I assure you. The sermons I was fortunate enough to hear were quite well done.” Charlotte took a sip of her tea, then raised her eyes to Frederick’s. There seemed to be such warm admiration in his gaze. Perhaps her doubts might be only nonsense, after all?
For a quarter hour, the three enjoyed their tea and easy conversation.
Then, Lavinia set her tea cup down. “Gracious,” she exclaimed.
“I completely forgot to speak with Mrs. Wilson about something in need of repair that cannot be delayed a moment longer. How vexing of me. I declare, Mr. Morton, these past few weeks I have been completely unable to command my attention as I wish. But, I hear that is common among expectant mothers. Pray, excuse me. I must attend to this matter at once. But, I shall not be absent long.”
“Not at all, Mrs. Kendall,” Frederick said, rising as his hostess hurried out the door, shutting it firmly behind her.
When she was gone, he took a deep breath and turned to Charlotte.
“Miss Kendall, it is so very good to see you again. I was so fearful you would already be back at Haverstone.” He glanced at the door, then moved to sit beside her.
“Now that we are alone, may I ask whether you received my gift with pleasure?”
“I did, sir. A more beautiful present I could not imagine. It must have cost you a good deal to have it so elegantly framed.”
“Think nothing of that. My sole thought was to please you. Knowing you are happy with it is all that matters.” He scooted a bit closer to her. “May I ask whether you have hung it yet?”
“No, it sits on the mantel in my bedroom. I…” Charlotte felt a bit woozy and took a shaky breath. “…I cannot yet decide on the perfect place for it.”
“May I suggest a location?” When she nodded, he took a deep breath and continued, “In the parsonage. Where we could see it every day.”
Even suspecting a declaration was coming, Charlotte could not help a quiet gasp. “We?” she whispered.
“Miss Kendall, I cannot wait any longer. I know my brother disappointed you and perhaps your heart is still aching or not yet able to trust in love again. But, I beg you to allow me to tell you of the ardent love and admiration I have for you that has been burning in me nearly since we first met. Recall when I told you there was but one thing that would make me more content in my new living at Clayton Parish?”
“Yes, but then our conversation moved to another topic, and you did not tell me what it was.”
He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. He smiled and said, “If you would agree to be my wife, I should be content beyond any possible imagining. Please say you will marry me, Miss Kendall—Charlotte. My living is not grand, but I am certain we can be so happy together.”
Tears came to Charlotte’s eyes, and her entire being seemed to fill up with a joy she had not thought possible.
She nodded and failed to keep her voice steady as she replied, “Yes, Mr. Morton—Frederick. I am honored to accept your offer of marriage. I, too, believe we shall be very content together.”
He leaned in and gently kissed her. Then, taking her face in his hands, kissed her once again, more insistently. Her arms stole around his neck while his slid around her waist. When they finally parted, they stared at each other with a delight neither had ever known or anticipated.
Lavinia’s voice was audible in the hallway, coming toward them. The two stood up as she entered. She smiled at them, pretending not to notice they were holding hands.
“Gracious, that took a bit longer than expected. I do apologize. Oh, Mr. Morton, my father is just returned from his estate work. Perhaps you would care to go greet him? He is in his study at present.”
“Indeed, I would. I would greatly wish to speak to him just now.” Frederick squeezed Charlotte’s hand and moved to the door.
He paused and smiled back at his new fiancée.
As soon as he closed the drawing room door, Lavinia and Charlotte rushed to embrace each other.
After a long hug, the two broke apart, grinning at each other.
“Oh, Sister—I can hardly believe it,” Charlotte said. “You were right. He loves me and wishes to marry me.”
Lavinia laughed. “Naturally, he does. Why do you think I told him Father had returned? Precisely so he could go and ask his permission at once.”
Charlotte felt a chill of apprehension run through her. “You…you do not think Papa will refuse Frederick, do you? He will agree, will he not? He must!”
Lavinia took Charlotte by the shoulders.
“Of course, he will agree, you goose. I can think of no possible reason for this marriage not to take place. Oh, that reminds me. I had best go tell Mrs. Wilson to expect another for dinner tonight and to select some of our best wines. I have a strong feeling our simple family meal tonight will instead be a grand celebration of this happy, happy news.”